


soft, sweet.

by hvrts



Series: say anything. [3]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Feelings, First Kiss, M/M, lots of soft touches and talking and stuff :((
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:48:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23034280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hvrts/pseuds/hvrts
Summary: hongjoong has responsibility. seonghwa helps him manage.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Series: say anything. [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1624024
Comments: 9
Kudos: 129





	soft, sweet.

the worst thing about being so close together? it's times like these, where things simmer and seethe and _explode_ before anyone realises that they _are_.

hongjoong is usually good at noticing _when_ , he can stop it before it _does_ , but he's only human. despite what the others might think.

that's the _worst_ part about being the leader. having to manage fights – or chase them – where everyone else gets to storm off and he has to stay behind _just in case_.

and, where hongjoong stays, seonghwa stays, too.

“they didn't mean it,” seonghwa says. gently. his long legs are folded up on the couch in the main room. it's supposed to be reassuring, and it mostly is, but things are still fresh and hongjoong struggles to adjust.

“i know,” hongjoong says. more out of habit than anything else. he reminds himself that he can't stay mad. he doesn't have that luxury. everything is stressful, and it's only natural that they'll disagree. they _do_ disagree. though some things do seem more personal than others, between san and wooyoong especially. he never brings that up.

 _it's quiet_ , hongjoong thinks. that should be the first sign. he fiddles with his macbook a little, but there's no work being done. seonghwa sees that right away.

“do you?”

that makes hongjoong blink. he looks up, seonghwa leans with his face against his fist. he's _gazing_ , and it scares hongjoong a little.

it scares him, because he _doesn't_ know. sometimes, a lot of the time, it feels like he doesn't know _anything_. and he should. he should know how to deal, how to manage, how to _think_ , but sometimes that just doesn't happen and hongjoong doesn't know what to _do_.

(and at times like _this–_ )

“i hate getting mad at them,” hongjoong admits. because it's true. the difficult times _are_ the worst, the part he dreads the most. maybe because there's a certain air of permanence when they're scattered like this. it goes against everything he works for. “i hate getting mad in general.”

seonghwa hums. his shoulders shift. “i know.”

“you know everything,” hongjoong says, rather dryly. that earns a sight laugh from seonghwa, one that makes something thunder deep in his own chest.

still. seonghwa doesn't deny it. “it's kind of hard _not_ to,” he says. shifts again to sit upright. his elbow must have been getting sore. he pulls down the rolled up sleeves of his hoodie and lets them cover his hands.

“that's because you ask a lot of questions.”

“you don't have to answer them,” seonghwa replies. which is only half true. because no, hongjoong doesn't have to answer them. hongjoong doesn't _have_ to do anything. he doesn't have to respond, he doesn't have to _explain_ , but he does. each and every time, he does, and he doesn't want to think about why.

he sighs. leans forward and takes a sip from his lukewarm flask. he feels seonghwa's eyes on him the entire time, completely ignoring the soap opera that plays on the tv.

when hongjoong leans back, he lets himself move in a little closer. just a little. only because seonghwa is warm and hongjoong isn't. seonghwa doesn't flinch. just lets hongjoong stay there, scoots over to make himself more comfortable. their shoulders touch and it feels nice.

and they sit there. in a heavy yet familiar silence, where words aren't needed. because they've said enough. because they know each other too well, to the point where it can actually be _frustrating_. because they know each other _so_ well that they end up not knowing what to say. what comes next. and hongjoong hates that.

it's not a warm evening, however. he shivers just a little, enough for seonghwa to notice. then again, it wouldn't take much. seonghwa has always been frighteningly observant.

he doesn't say anything when seonghwa's hand crawls towards his, tucking itself underneath the cold plate of skin. his fingers fold around hongjoong's with ease, and it's comfortable. and warm. calms him down more than he thinks it will. hongjoong isn't sure why he's surprised, because seonghwa has always had that effect without even trying. when hongjoong _panics_ , it's seonghwa who holds his hand. or gives his shoulder a squeeze when things don't quite go to plan, rubs circles on his back when hongjoong slips into bed after a particularly gruelling studio session.

the thing is, seonghwa is _always_ there. always. he doesn't have to be, he just stays because he can. because he wants to. because hongjoong can't do this alone. they both know _that_.

“i'm sorry,” he says. _starts_. though, he's not sure how to end it. this isn't courage. something in his voice feels defeated.

he feels seonghwa turn towards him. there's a furrow in his brows. because this is confusing. _hongjoong_ is confusing. it's one of his worst traits, and he knows there would be more if he were to ever write them down. he prefers not to think about it.

“what?”

hongjoong pauses. briefly. seonghwa runs his thumb across the back of hongjoong's hand, tells him to _breathe_. hongjoong licks his lips, tries not to panic when seonghwa looks at them.

“i'm not good at _this_ ,” he murmurs. can't bring himself to look at seonghwa while he does. “this talking thing?”

(this _feelings_ thing.)

seonghwa only stares at him. his lips part, then close, then part again. it shouldn't be so _distracting_ , but it is. _he's holding himself back_ , hongjoong thinks. and that pierces his gut somewhere, because he shouldn't have to.

“i know.”

hongjoong sighs. he's not sure what else he was expecting. what he even _wants_. this feels like too much.

“i know,” hongjoong says. _repeats_. “i _know_ , you know. you know how i feel, how i think, you know what i'm going to say before i even say it. you know that i think about this – _us_ – so much that i get frustrated. or sad. or i feel like i can't do anything else because i'm just thinking about _you_ and how much i want to be _with_ you all the time. even if it's just like this. i know _that_.”

seonghwa doesn't say anything. not right away. hongjoong's palms begin to feel sweaty. he doesn't mean to sound so belligerent, but he's tired. and he feels guilty. he doesn't want another fight, not now, and not with seonghwa of all people. but he's just confessed. or at least the closest thing to a confession he can manage. this isn't what he usually does, but seonghwa is _there_ , and–

seonghwa purses his lips. he's thinking.

“i don't know what you want me to _say_. or do,” he says. low. his hand tightens in hongjoong's a little. “what do you want to do?”

hongjoong inhales. he notices seonghwa's expression change, tries to think nothing of it. but it's not easy. because seonghwa is looking at him, can probably feel the heat that flares in hongjoong's skin. that's another scary part. the fact that he doesn't _know_.

and he says just that.

“i– don't know.” he pauses. “what do _you_ want to do?”

seonghwa watches him. it feels pointless to ask, he already _knows_.

(confessing seems to be the easiest part. it's what comes _after_ that's the challenge. always what comes after.)

hongjoong hums. it's still quiet. he has to draw his eyes away, distracts himself with running his fingertips against the back of seonghwa's hand. it's all too worrying, everything about _feelings_. they're just _there_ now, constant, rising to the surface in moments like this. when seonghwa just _knows_.

and it _is_ that simple. most of the time. but there's also an overload of feelings that run into chest, and when hongjoong looks up, he can only think, _when did we get so close_.

seonghwa blinks again. his eyelashes flutter against his cheek. hongjoong's throat feels dry. his lips feel dry, too. he's not mad anymore, not even confused. just thoughtful, because seonghwa is _really_ close and his skin looks _really_ soft.

he feels the weight of seonghwa's eyes press into him, and another, less certain kind of weight pressing into his own chest. that's what this feels like. pressing and _pressing_ , push and pull, buttons and hands and sheer force.

because then, seonghwa moves forward. and _forward_. and seonghwa kisses him. first. presses himself into him, presses his lips against hongjoong's, and kisses him right on his mouth.

seonghwa's lips are more or less what he expects: unbearably soft and unbelievably warm. they taste like mint tea, light and sweet, a little hesitant, _delicate_. not that hongjoong had ever suspected otherwise. they’re wet and curved, gentle as hongjoong kisses back, slow. _slowly_. he doesn't push back, leans just enough that the heat of seonghwa's skin melts into his own.

he lets himself get lost in shades of pink underneath layers of blue, and that familiar, plunging sensation continues to stream through his lungs.

(hongjoong is almost caught off guard, unsure what to do – how to _deal_.

but, seonghwa's hand tightens in his. the warmth in his chest satiates, and hongjoong at _least_ understands that.)

there's colour in seonghwa's cheeks. more so than usual. hongjoong tastes it, feels it, notices it when seonghwa pulls away first. _slowly_. like he's not quite sure he wants to. not yet.

hongjoong has to suppress the urge to lean forwards again, to feel the smooth sensation of those lips against his own. the after effects still tingle where seonghwa's lips had touched, and hongjoong feels ever so slightly giddy.

it's _a lot_ , a lot to feel at once. his mind wanders and he struggles to reel it in. _it had to happen eventually_ , hongjoong thinks. then curses at himself because, no, nothing ever _has_ to happen. but it does. it always does. that's how it goes.

but their faces are close. still. close enough that seonghwa's warm breath tickles against his face. and hongjoong has to tighten his grip in his hand to keep himself still.

it's _that_ feeling that lingers. has been since day one, most likely. it's difficult to pinpoint when this all started, probably easier to just accept the fact that there was never really a _start_. things just _are_ , feelings just _are_.

hongjoong gulps. and blinks. his hoodie feels suffocating, now. seonghwa still hasn't let go of his hand. not that he wants to. maybe. it's a wordless reminder, one that says, _it's okay, i'm here, i'm not going leave_ –

but responsibility is a devil of a thing. and hongjoong can't ignore it the way he ignores everything else.

his voice feels husky when he speaks. “i'm going to have to talk to them, aren't i?”

seonghwa watches him. it's not much of a question; that's seonghwa's thing. but he's hongjoong and he doesn't get breaks, doesn't allow himself to have them. instead, he lets himself seek out a familiar touch, a presence he's become more than accustomed to over the years. one that's always there when he needs it.

“i'll come with you,” seonghwa says. earnestly. like he really means it. and hongjoong doesn't doubt that he does.

this doesn't feel so different. for now at least. hongjoong and seonghwa are still hongjoong and seonghwa. with this relentless push and pull game that neither of them are winning. it's just a kiss, after all. a first kiss at that. something about it doesn't feel quite as momentous, more subtle, casual. in a pleasant kind of way.

nothing has to change, nothing has to be different. not yet. they can just _be_.

“can we stay here?” hongjoong says. _asks_. then cringes at how needy he sounds, but can't really help it. “just for a bit?”

seonghwa smiles slightly. his lips look soft, hongjoong _knows_ they're soft, and it's hard to look away.

seonghwa squeezes his fingers. says, _“okay,”_ in the faintest voice possible. hongjoong hears something else that swims in his voice, something gentle and patient and so _seonghwa_ that is _does_ scare him. it does.

_(“you don't need to ask.”)_

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/raventiques)


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